Absinthe and Guinness
by MAmidala
Summary: Obi-Wan meets a dark and mysterious stranger, alien to the galaxy, in a sketchy Coruscant cantina.


**Wow. I managed to bang this out in like three hours, so...expect something of that quality.**

**I had WAAAAYYY too much fun writing this isdjakl;gjfg**

**Sissi, this one's for you.**

* * *

The streets of Coruscant were damp and grimy, the areas around the dais of this particular cantina's entrance stained with leftover residue of intoxication, badly cleaned and left to fester. Nobody seemed to care how foul the entrance alone smelled—they must've already been drunk upon entry and didn't notice.

Carefully stepping over the retched-up alcohol and Force knows what else, Obi-Wan wondered for what must have been the two or three hundredth time that day why exactly he was doing this. A Separatist spy seemed something more easily taken care of by a bounty hunter or even Anakin. The younger Jedi had a better, sometimes more efficient, way of dealing with situations that may grow violent. Obi-Wan could slice a shuura fruit into seven pieces in midair in less than a second if need be—the need for this trick was seldom, but still, it was impressive—but the young Knight was efficient by way of not bothering with negotiation.

Negotiation would, most likely, be something unneeded this night. He could tell.

The Master's Jedi reserve only went so far to help him in not gagging from the acrid smells outside the cantina, but they thankfully wavered once he stepped inside. The stench of out-of-date sick and other unpleasant substances was replaced with a haze of smoky air and an unmistakable stink of spice hanging in it. Obi-Wan could see the effects of the mind-altering drug on several patrons, and could only shake his head at the fact that there were no authorities taking these people into custody. Last he checked, spice was decidedly illegal, earning a public user a good amount of time in prison.

He couldn't very well blame authorities for not wanting to come in here, though. He himself had an urge to turn on his heels and walk out, but he couldn't do so without a few days of ridicule from Anakin. Again.

Keeping his eyes straight forward and not meeting anyone else's, ignoring the lingering stares at his very recognizable attire, Obi-Wan made his way to the bar, figuring it to be the best place to gather information on this so-called Senate spy. A barkeep knows things even seasoned investigators don't. As soon as he took an unoccupied place at the dimly-lit counter, he was overwhelmed with a sense of _darkness_ near him. Straightening his back and maintaining a calm demeanor, Obi-Wan cast sidelong looks at both customers on either side of him. Such a feeling was to be expected in such a place, and he had expected it, but not this strong and potent, this striking. This . . . not quite reminiscent of the dark side, but something else.

The customer to his right, a young woman presumably from Hapes who posed no threat but to herself with her growing intoxication, didn't draw his concern.

The customer to his left, however, _did_ catch his attention. This man's origin was undetectable, but his dark aura was. Obi-Wan kept his face facing forward, but let his eyes drift across the man's features. With high cheekbones, rich green eyes, and striking black hair down to his somewhat narrow shoulders, these shoulders vaguely slouched and his long forefinger running the rim of his glass suggested a too-calm-for-this-environment countenance that the Jedi couldn't ignore. Perhaps this investigation wouldn't be very long after all.

"Something catch your attention?"

With an almost imperceptible jump, Obi-Wan turned to face him, immediately catching the half smirk on the man's face. Admittedly, he wasn't as discreet as he could have been in his visual inspection, but still, he hadn't expected his attention to drift from his questionably green drink—which had been rather intense.

Obi-Wan assumed a light smile and put a hand up. "My apologies."

The smirk disappeared and the man rose a single eyebrow. "That doesn't answer my question." His accent sounded Coruscanti, similar to Obi-Wan's, but there was a tinge of something different in there—a softness that made every word sound like a croon—reminiscent of someplace the Jedi had never heard in a person's voice before.

The Jedi Master found himself oddly disarmed, momentarily hitting a mental snag under the intense emerald green gaze of this handsome stranger. "Again, my apologies," he finally said. "I'm looking for someone." Figuring it would make a better impression, as well as make it look less like he was inspecting him for criminal acts, Obi-Wan extended his hand. "Obi-Wan Kenobi." It hit him then that he didn't _really_ need to make a better impression—one look at his clothes and you'd know his business.

A flicker of recognition went across the green eyes before him and the half smirk returned as they shook. "Loki," the stranger replied, the simple two syllables rolling off his tongue in a soft low tone, like a brush of velvet against the Jedi's skin. "Tell me, Obi-Wan: what brings a Jedi like yourself to the lowest point of Coruscant?" Loki capped his question with a fluid sip of his too-green and too-dark drink.

Obi-Wan once again found himself disarmed, his eyes drifting to Loki's lips as he drank. He was beginning to question his own professionalism as he had to almost hold his eyes up with his hands to keep actual eye contact with this potential suspect. "Jedi business," he answered, memories of chasing a bounty hunter into a similar, less seedy, cantina with Anakin ringing through his mind. He almost smiled.

An interested perk of Loki's eyebrows. "Oh?" Green eyes scanned the room, and a small bemused smile painted itself across his pale face. "Doesn't seem a place for a Jedi to spend an evening."

"Doesn't seem a place for anybody to spend an evening," Obi-Wan said back, lightly smiling.

Loki bit the rim of his glass and smiled widely at the retort, an action that tightened Obi-Wan's stomach. His own smile wavered at the feeling, his throat tightening as he averted his eyes back in front of himself. "What brings yourself here, Loki?"

A nonchalant shrug, drawing the Jedi's eyes to the soft black and green fabrics, accented with gold, that covered his shoulders. "Not much of anything better to do, I suppose." Loki started at the sound of someone retching loudly somewhere out of view. "For many."

Despite the charming countenance of this Loki, Obi-Wan could still feel the darkness radiating off of him in thick waves through the Force. He had to remind himself that the only smiles he should be bearing should be for disguise of his purpose. Something wasn't right about this man, and he was intent on finding out what. "Where are you from, Loki?"

"Far away," he answered without hesitation. "Let me buy you a drink, Obi-Wan." He looked the Jedi up and down. "You people _must_ learn to slouch now and again."

"No, I—"

Loki put a hand up, silencing him. "I won't take no for an answer." _Something tells me you seldom do._ A gesture at the barkeep and a drink matching Loki's was set before Obi-Wan on the counter. The Jedi eyed it warily, wondering what substance gave it its color. "Something tells me if you hadn't sworn your life to the greater good and saving damsels in distress, you'd be quite the party animal."

The eyes running up and down his body and scanning his face made Obi-Wan's stomach clench tighter, chasing his own eyes down to the questionable drink before him. He found himself speechless, unable to process any words under this intense gaze. Obi-Wan scolded himself inwardly, but it was halfhearted. Part of him didn't dislike the intense green of Loki's eyes being trained on him.

The blackhead smiled. "If I could _see_ your cheeks, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I would say I've brought a flush to them," Loki remarked, sending a tremor down Obi-Wan's arms and in his knees. The outspokenness of this stranger was something Obi-Wan didn't quite see coming—especially not to the degree to make his insides perform an impromptu gymnastics routine—though should have expected. If it was possible, his Jedi senses were rendered more or less useless in the presence of this man. Perhaps it was the overwhelming darkness that seemed to cling to him like an opaque black fog distracting him? Obi-Wan didn't know. All he did know at that moment was that he found that charming smile of his too much to keep a straight face around.

In need of a diversion, Obi-Wan picked up the still-full glass in front of him, though did not drink from it. "I may be in need of your assistance, Loki," he said, mostly just to say something. The aforementioned rose his eyebrows in a silent reply. "I'm looking for someone."

"Are you?" His emeralds looked about the room. "Here?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered disdainfully, the strong odor of spice once again invading his nostrils. "If I had it my way, I would be looking for someone in a bakery or, indeed, home." A shake of his head. "Would you mind being of assistance to me?"

Loki smiled. "I'd be glad to."

_You're far too friendly not to have some ulterior motive,_ Obi-Wan thought, his sea blue eyes lingering on Loki's face for a moment too long. "Good. I—"

"Although, before I am of assistance to you, I want you to do something for me." Loki's eyes turned serious and Obi-Wan turned silent again. The _inhumanly_ green eyes, forever collecting more and more of Obi-Wan's affection, flickered to the drink still clutched in one of the Jedi's hands, the liquid itself remaining untouched. "Have a drink. Relax some."

Alarm bells went off quietly in Obi-Wan's head. Loki's nearly hypnotizing facade was enough to make the Jedi Master's heart drum, but he wasn't about to drink an unfamiliar concoction offered to him by man he'd hardly known for twenty standard minutes—although, he did see the barkeep mix it himself. And Loki didn't appear to be experiencing any effects of being poisoned, or have a hypnotic control on the barkeep to make him mix in something deadly.

But it was that ever-lingering curtain of darkness that Loki was shrouded in that prevented Obi-Wan from fully trusting him. There was a long moment of silence between them, in which Obi-Wan held the glass a little higher. "You don't think I'd kill a Jedi, do you?" Loki asked, bemused. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Obi-Wan almost said no, but he kept himself from vocalizing his inward thoughts, as they grew more questionable as he watched Loki bite the rim of his glass again, his eyes calm and not wavering from Obi-Wan's. Before he knew that his arm was raising the glass higher to his lips, the Jedi tasted a sickly sweet, bitter liquid on his tongue, his lips tingling from the touch of it. Pulling the glass from his lips, shocked at how sudden the sip had been taken, Obi-Wan hardly had time to recollect his wits before Loki angled his face toward his own, taking the Jedi's lips on his in a hard kiss.

That drink had certainly did a number on him, small a sip as it was, as he actually leaned into the kiss, not pulling from the similar taste of the green alcohol that lingered on Loki's lips. On its own, his hand found the stranger's neck, pressing the pads of his fingers into the soft skin, feeling the pulse point that laid just underneath and feeling how quickly Loki's heart was beating. He was sure his own was doing the same.

More tremors ran through Obi-Wan as a strong hand locked on his upper arm, weakening his knees. He pulled away, collecting his breath and meeting those eyes again, the green irises fiercer than before and all the more dark. Though, this time, the darkness was alluring. His mind told him to walk away, to get up and never come back to this cantina. The Force sent whispers to leave, or to fight the influence of this man from far away.

But his body counteracted. Blue and green eyes melding into seafoam, Obi-Wan made the advance this time: his hand gripped the black-and-green fabric covering Loki's upper arm and pulled him into him, bringing his lips gently to his. Loki's tongue slowly pushed Obi-Wan's lips apart and mingled with his own, sending flames of salacity through his chest, clenching around his heart and making it beat at an almost unhealthy rate.

Any sense of Obi-Wan being a Jedi melted away, leaving only his desire for this mysterious man and the pulse under his creamy skin, the inhuman greenness of his eyes as though someone had infused them with chlorophyll. He wanted to feel the skin underneath this cloth. This soft, thick cloth that was entirely in the way.

They mutually pulled away this time. "Aren't you going against the Jedi Order?" Loki purred, taunting Obi-Wan with a heart-clenching smirk. "Isn't this against your _beliefs_?" His strong hand found the auburn hair behind the Jedi's head.

Obi-Wan made no reply; he found that his throat was clenched tight, unable to get words through. He simply answered no by ignoring the onlookers and taking Loki's chin as he had before and pulling him into him, their lips crashing together and melding, twisting together. Loki's hand found Obi-Wan's chest, gripping the rough fabric of his robes with his strong hand—surprisingly strong, in fact, as though he had the Force to grant him extra strength. Pulling Obi-Wan closer to him, very close, Loki pulled his lips away from his only half an inch, panting.

"Have you found who you're looking for?" Loki crooned, his lips just brushing those of the Jedi he held close to himself.

Obi-Wan nodded once admittedly, said, "For now, I suppose," and pressed his lips against Loki's mischievous smile.

* * *

And then they probably went back to Obi-Wan's place and Anakin was chilling there reading a newspaper and just stared at them with a straight face as they made out right there in front of him. Jedi gotta have action, too, y'know.

Also, absinthe and Guinness was the drink...hence the title...hehe.


End file.
